Chapter 15.
Sirius could, he thinks, stare at Louisa Reece for the rest of his life. There would, of course, be some complications - he'd need someone to make sure he didn't walk into things, for a start, but James could probably do that, and it would be worth it. But staring isn't acceptable. Even staring at your girlfriend as she patiently listens to your best friend in the Common Room. Sirius doesn't know everything about girls, but he knows that about one thing they are very clear: staring is odd. It makes them uncomfortable. It makes you look obsessed (the problem is, he kind of is, but that's not the kind of thing that any self-respecting teenage boy admits to). So Sirius makes do with sitting opposite her with the Daily Prophet held up in front of him, pretending to read as he watches her. She glances up and smiles at him, and he smiles back as if he only just glanced up too, and with a (hopefully more charming than frightening) raised eyebrow, he 'returns' his gaze to his newspaper, before returning it to her face when a safe time has passed.
Looking at Lou is like looking at the world in a different colour scheme. Before, the person Sirius would spend most time looking at was himself, striking (more than half-, but not completely- ) ironic poses in the mirror as James hammered on the bathroom door. Sirius is perfectly aware of his own beauty, which he sees not only in the mirror but in every meeting, photograph and memory of many of his family members. The Black attractiveness is legendary, and Sirius is a fine example of it, all monochrome precision and careless grace - the straight line of his nose, the distinctive angle of his jaw, the whiteness of his skin and the way his shiny black hair and piercing grey eyes stand out so vividly against it. The slightly supercilious manner which reminds him of his mother and which he once tried to give up (but sadly returned to when James said that the air of humility he adopted in its place made him look like "a destitute old beggar-woman who just gave up her only shawl for the Queen to walk on"). He knows he's beautiful, but it means nothing - it's a tool he uses to impress when he needs to, but ultimately it's one of the few things his family has given to him that he can't run away from or discard. Ultimately, it's a reminder of roots he'd rather were buried.
Lou is different. Softer, warmer. Creamy skin and brown, slightly flyaway hair, impatiently tucked behind ears by ink-stained fingers with rounded nails. Sparkling dark eyes, and cheeks that become tinged with pink when she's cold, or warm, or even a little enthusiastic about something. Her face is expressive - eyebrows that arch and quirk at the slightest provocation, shapely pink lips which seem to be constantly moving, revealing pointy white teeth in a smile or a laugh or a word. She's looking thoughtful now, as James talks nervously about Lily's birthday, which is less than a fortnight away.
"- do you think flowers are a good idea?" he asks.
Lou pulls a face. "Well, I wouldn't like flowers," she says.
"What? Why?" James is desperate for an insight into the female mind.
"Flowers in the ground are pretty," says Lou. "Although they make me sneeze if I get too close. But if you give a girl flowers as a gift, what you're saying to her is, 'when I see something beautiful, my immediate urge is to rip it away from its life-source, place it on a shelf somewhere, and watch it slowly die'. Is that the impression you're hoping for?"
A grin breaks out across Sirius' face. He hides it behind his newspaper.
"Okay," says James, crossing out something on the scrap of parchment he's using to write ideas. "No flowers."
"I didn't say that," says Lou with a smile. "Lily would love it if you gave her flowers - not lilies, though, 'cause that'd be a bit naff."
"But you said -" James flails incoherently.
"I did. But I am not Lily. Girls are different to each other. Which is why asking me about what I'd like isn't going to be especially helpful to you."
A gurgle of laughter spills out of Sirius' mouth, earning him a disapproving look from a rather disappointed-looking James. Lou stands up.
"I'm going to the library," she says, with the kind of determination that starts in the voice and tries desperately to work its effects on the brain. She gathers her books, ruffles James' hair, swiftly kisses Sirius on the cheek and leaves the room.
That night, the Gryffindor 7th-year boys' dormitory has the air of a meeting-room about it. Well, that's not strictly true. It has the (slightly stale, with whiffs of toothpaste, deodorant, chocolate and explosives) air of a boys' dormitory about it. But James Potter has the air of a man about to propose a controversial scheme to a dubious board.
He clears his throat.
Peter continues to search his drawer for clean pyjamas. Remus continues to read his current bedtime book. Sirius continues attempting to juggle Gobstones. One of them starts to hiss and he drops it in surprise. He follows it to the floor and is surprised to find that he can't see it. He begins to search.
James clears his throat again.
"You'd better not be getting a cold," comes Sirius' voice from underneath his bed.
"I'm not."
"Take a potion or something to be sure. I don't want your germs."
The idea that clearing one's throat is an impressive way to begin a conversation, James reflects, is a common misconception that is undeniably false. He ploughs on admirably.
"Remus, I have a proposal to make to you."
Thud.
"Ow!"
Sirius' head appears from underneath his bed, closely followed by a hand, which rubs his scalp. He looks across the room eagerly. All four boys know exactly what Sirius is thinking.
Remus smiles. "Get down on one knee and do it properly, or you don't stand a chance."
Laughter. Sirius picks up the Gobstone triumphantly, extricates himself from the gap beneath his bed and sits down to listen.
"Right, well," James clears his throat again, more out of nervousness than a desire to impress. "I want to ask you - and there's no pressure, it's completely up to you - if I could tell Lily about, you know…you."
Remus adopts a stillness that is more than just not moving.
James continues. "I mean, I know it's like, our secret, and I'd never tell anyone without your permission, it's just…I want to explain to her about Prongs, it feels like I'm hiding a massive part of myself if I don't. But it's hard to tell her that I'm an illegal Animagus without explaining why I became one - and the why is impossible to explain without mentioning you."
Remus takes several breaths. "But what if she didn't react…favourably?"
"Then she's not the person that I think she is, and I'll do a Memory Charm, and, well…probably break up with her."
Time stops. Nobody moves. James tries to explain. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I love her, but…friends come first, don't they? It was us four a long time before it was me and her. But I don't think she'd react badly. She's not the type."
Remus nods minutely. "Okay, then. Go on."
James breathes out like he's suddenly remembered how to, smiles, and claps Remus on the shoulder. "Thanks, Moony."
"No problem."
"Erm," says Sirius, half-unsure as to whether to continue, but eventually, when everyone in the room turns to look at him, deciding that he might as well. "Could I tell Lou, too?" He braces himself, thinking that it must be too much.
But Remus smiles. "Alright," he says.
Sirius glances at James, expecting him to protest at how easily Remus agrees this time (Sirius knows he would, if the roles were reversed), but James is whistling softly as he arranges the area around his bed into its usual organised chaos, and doesn't seem to have noticed anything unusual.
The following day, Sirius is sitting with Lou beneath a tree by the lake. It's lunch-time, and they're eating sandwiches grabbed from the Great Hall. It's a cold, grey day, but they're sitting on a blanket, wearing coats and scarves and gloves. The wind whips their hair into sketchy halos. Lou's left leg rests against Sirius' right with a familiarity that makes something in the region of his chest ache.
"Can I tell you something?" he asks.
"Of course." Lou gazes across the lake, watching some of the younger students run around on the other side.
Sirius takes a deep breath. "I'm an Animagus," he says.
Lou smiles slightly, but doesn't respond. "I can turn into a dog…a big, black one."
Lou bites her sandwich.
"Peter, James and I became Animagi so that we could keep Remus company. When he transforms. Every month, into a werewolf."
Lou turns her head and looks at Sirius. "Did Remus say you could tell me this?"
"Yeah."
"That's alright then."
Pause.
"Erm, is that it?" asks Sirius, wrong-footed. "I mean, I just told you some reasonably big news."
"I already knew."
"What?" This is just about the biggest breach of security that Sirius can imagine, and he wonders wildly if he is dreaming.
Lou squeezes his face with a smile. "Remus and I used to tutor each other in the subjects each of us hated. We spent a lot of time together. Regular meetings tend to bring it to your attention if the person you're meeting cancels every month like clockwork. I worked it out, told him I knew. He told me not to tell anyone, including you three. He seemed to be under the impression that the four of you were bound together by the secret, and you'd all hate him if you found out I knew."
Sirius remembers the previous evening. "Does James know you know?"
"Yeah. In fifth year, Remus thought you'd all gone off him because you were being all secretive and meeting up without him. Then when he found out you'd become Animagi he was so happy, and he told me. Then a week or so later I was teasing James and I kind of accidentally called him 'Bambi' - we'd been studying films in Muggle Studies - and he gathered from that that I knew."
It's a lot for Sirius to take in. "And you don't mind?"
"Of course I don't. He's still Remus, isn't he? And it's not his fault. And I think you three are really sweet, doing what you've done for him."
"You're incredible." Sirius kisses Lou's grinning lips.
"You're not so bad, yourself."
She stands up, grabs Sirius' hands and heaves him to his feet, too. They pick up the picnic blanket and fold it.
"What now?" asks Sirius, glancing at his watch and seeing that there's plenty of time until they have to go to their next class. "Fancy a stroll around the lake?"
Lou smiles. "Time for walkies, is it?"
Sirius laughs and holds out his hand. She grabs it, and they set off.
The boys' dormitory is ecstatic, that evening. "Lily doesn't care!" shouts James, for the umpteenth time in the past half-hour, leaping from his own bed, onto Peter's.
"And Lou already knew!" shrieks Sirius, stepping lightly from his own bed, onto a specially-cleared space on top of his chest of drawers.
Peter opens four bottles of Butterbeer, grinning, and swiftly distributes three of them. "Best possible outcome!" he says, drinking a large amount of his drink in one go.
With a bloodcurdling yelp, Sirius jumps from his chest of drawers to the space right in front of Remus, embracing his friend. Sirius' exclamations are drowned by Remus' cries for help and the others' laughter.
"What is the meaning of this?" comes a stern voice from the doorway, where Professor McGonagall stands, dressing-gowned and tired-looking. "I've had several complaints about the noise."
The four boys look at each other.
"Sorry, Professor," says Remus.
"We're just a bit excited," adds Peter.
James can't help himself. "We just remembered that we have Transfiguration tomorrow."
For once, Professor McGonagall is speechless. She looks like she's trying to decide whether to punish them or laugh at them.
Sirius grins. "Would you like a Butterbeer?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Black." Their Head of House straightens her dressing-gown. "Please remember that some people are trying to sleep, and keep the noise down in the future."
She gives an almost-imperceptible nod, and walks away, unable to resist smiling to herself as she hears the clinking of bottles and a choked "shut up!"